None of Your Friends Think So
by Fwoggeh
Summary: One of the many risks of a trip to Paris is being mistaken for a MarieSuzette by paranoid and overcautious students. WARNING: Contains high levels of MarieSuzetteism and FRENCH WORDS!
1. In Which Limited French is Spoken

O HAI GUYZ. Yes, Fwoggeh is back from hiatus and is back in the writing game, this time tackling Les Mis. I'm not sure if I'll continue this, discovered lurking in my 'Finish Later' file, so please review and tell me what you think. 

**Fandom is plagued by a menace. Call them whatever you like, but in this fandom, they go under the name of Marie-Suzette. Hopefully (fingers crossed) the character of this story is not one of those. **

**We begin our epic(ish) story in Paris, May 2008…

* * *

**

Dad handed me some euros. "Your mother and I are off to the _hypermarche_." He said, checking that he hadn't accidentally handed me his MasterCard and pin number. "We'll be back in about an hour and a half, and if you're not back outside Notre-Dame before then, say _au revoir _to ever going out by yourself again." He looked all smug with his limited French. Bless him.

"Alright." I muttered, shoving the euros in my pocket. "S'later."

My family and I had come to Paris for the weekend. Since wine shopping bored me, that afternoon I was allowed, grudgingly by my overprotective mother, to go explore Paris. Armed with an A to Z of Paris and some of my fathers' euros I set off down the street, nearly being knocked down by a _gendarme_ on a _bicyclette_.

I can speak limited French too, me!

Luckily most foreign people I had met were eager to practice their English on me. And who was I to deny them that?

I turned left and wandered along, consulting my A to Z and trying to look as untouristy as possible. Which is difficult when one is carrying an A to Z of Paris. But I digress. I decided, in a fit of _je ne sais quoi_, to ignore the handy signs directing me to le Metro and continue on foot. After ten minutes I didn't recognise any of my surroundings. After fifteen, I was lost.

I began to feel rather conspicuous to be honest, in a pair of jeans, trainers and a red logo t-shirt. The area I was trekking through was rather dark and plain, with passers by dressed in a similarly dark, plain fashion. I decided to try and find the Eiffel Tower or some similarly touristy spot, and hurried over to a young looking guy with long hair, wearing a long coat.

"'Scuse me." I said, "Er, I mean, _Excusez-moi_…"

The Frenchman turned to face me (and he was rather good-looking to be honest) but when he spotted me and my clothing, his face filled with horror for some unknown reason. "Enjolras!!!" He shouted down the street, sounding rather scared. I definitely didn't recognize that word in my 'Handy French Phrases for the Very Dim' book. Perhaps it was a street name…

I was broken from my contemplating as came the sound of about half a dozen people running up the street. I decided to walk on, since this cowering Frenchman could not help me in the slightest, and quite honestly, I was rather concerned at the sound of running getting closer and closer….

Suddenly, they stopped.

"MARIE-SUZEEEEEEETTE!" Someone male and French sounding cried behind me.

"What!" I squeaked, before someone bundled into me. "Ahhh! Abduction! Abduction! Violence inherent in the system!!!" A sack was suddenly shoved over my head and I felt myself being picked up and thrown roughly over someone's shoulder. "Oh well this is just GREAT." I said sarcastically, kicking my feet frantically. "Put me down you, you…cheese eating surrender monkey!"

I was suddenly hit over the head with something possibly wooden. Owowowow. "That was uncalled for…" I whimpered, my head throbbing, as everything went black.

* * *

When I eventually came round, I realised I couldn't move my arms and legs. Or see for that matter. "I'm blind!" I shrieked. "And paralyzed! And I've got a terrific headache! Heeeeeeeeelp!" 

"Quiet!" I heard someone shout, before the blindfold (aha! That explained a lot) was ripped off my face and I was nearly blinded for real by the sudden light. When my eyes adjusted, I looked down to see I was tied to a chair. Not paralyzed, as previously assumed, which was a slight relief. However, I began panicking like a loon again when I realised I'd been kidnapped by…

Huh. That was odd. When I looked up at my captors, I recognized my incredibly unhelpful, if good looking, Frenchman. _Zut alors, _I thought, I've been caught up in some teenage abduction trade. It's curtains for me for sure, Mum and Dad will be in the _hypermarche, _browsing over wine and croissants at discount pricesfor hours yet and they could have shipped me to Kazakhstan to work in the mines or whatever they kidnap people for these days…

"Where am I?" I said croakily. "Who are you complete psychos?!"

"Quiet, _Marie-Suzette_!" One of them declared. This just confused me even further.

"Marie-Suzette?" I said. "Who's she? I'm not even French, my name's-"

"Regardless!" Another shouted, waving his arms about carelessly and almost knocking one of the others over. "Christelle, Adorine, Ceciliane, Gloriane Montague LeNoir, or whatever-your-name-is…" He appeared to lose his train of thought at this point and contented himself by taking another swig out of the bottle he was carrying.

"Who on earth is called THAT?" I cried. "Look, I said before, my name's not Christelle Adorine…Christelle Adori…whatever he just said. My NAME is-"

"Your name is not important." A new speaker interrupted from somewhere behind me. Unfortunately, I was not an owl and could not turn my head 180 degrees. So thus, I had to wait until Mr Dramatic Statement Entrance (or possibly the Phantom of the Opera. I wasn't sure) walked round the chair in front of me. Turns out it wasn't the Phantom of the Opera at all, but another Frenchman. _Quelle surprise. _On the plus side, he was _trés_ handsome.

"My name," He began. "Is Enjolras. And we are Le Amis d'ABC."

"Funny name for a band of kidnappers." I said, and was rewarded with a **Death-Glare-O'Doom®.** I could've sworn one of the others muttered to his neighbour. "I thought he reserved that one exclusively for R?"

"Wait!" Enjolras suddenly seemed to realise something and scooted away from me very quickly. "AHahAhaHA! We can understand each other! SUUUUZETTE!" He cried in a very hysterical and OOC way. Then he quickly calmed down. "Marius, write that down."

"On what?" A young man in the corner replied. I assumed this was Marius.

"On that?" I suggested helpfully, gesturing with my head to an Apple laptop lying on a nearby table.

Enjolras screamed again and pointed at me. "YOU BROUGHT THAT WITH YOU!!!! MARIE-SUZ-"

"Um, actually," One of the others piped up, with a glassy look in his eyes. "It belongs to Arielle Papillion, who has eyes of fiery cornflower and flowing locks of striking sunrise gold, she's a waitress here at Café Musain, and last night she confessed to me that she's General Lamarques secret lovechild…"

At this point, a bald chap grabbed the rambling one and backhanded him hard across the face. "Snap out of it Combeferre!" He cried. "Don't let her get to you!"

'Combeferre' quickly fell back into a chair, gasping for breath. "Sorry…" He muttered. "Let my guard down…"

"Fascinating as this is," I said. "I'd still like to know why I've been tied up by members of the re-enactment society-"

"Le Amis!" Enjolras interrupted.

I resisted the urge to bang my head against something. "WHATEVER. Why are you all dressed weird?"

"We should ask you that." My unhelpful Frenchman answered, making his first contribution to the conversation since I'd apparently scared the life out of him in the street.

Eh?

Slightly fearing the answer I'd get, I cautiously asked. "…What year is this?"

Amidst more odd looks, Marius was kind enough to tell me, looking deadly serious "1831."

"Oh I see." I said. And screamed.


	2. In Which Courfeyrac is Told to Shut Up

**Chapter 2 and thank you to all my reviewerers! (and LesMisLoony who corrected my French. I was never a great French speaker. I preferred German and also my French teacher was Thenardier incarnate.)**

* * *

About half an hour later, long after I'd stopped panicking about my unexpected time travel, I set about trying to regain the feeling in my hands. The cords around my wrists were knotted so tightly, I had pins and needles in every finger. However all I achieved from this was sore wrists and overbalancing the chair, which crashed to the floor with me still sat upon it. I sighed as I gazed up at the ceiling from my place on the floor and wondered what on earth had happened. I was lost, I was tied up and it was 1831. **Wonderful. **

After about five minutes, the one they had called 'Combeferre' came over and pushed my chair back onto its four legs.

"Thanks." I muttered rather sullenly.

Combeferre looked at me for a couple of seconds before turning to face Enjolras, who was sat at a nearby table, writing something. "Can't we just untie her hands or something Enjolras? I don't think she can cause that much trouble."

I managed to smile gratefully at Combeferre before Enjolras sighed crossly and stood up. "Combeferre, please, I am TRYING to plan a revolution, and we can't let this newest 'Suzette distract us."

"For the last time, I am NOT this 'Marie-Suzette' you keep banging on about." I said impatiently. "I don't even know who she is!"

"Well can we at LEAST ask her 'The Questions'?" Combeferre asked, rather ominously infact. Before I could even ask what the mysterious 'Questions' were, Enjolras sighed again and came to sit down facing me.

"Fine." He grumbled. "Fine. Let's get this over with. First question: Do you have a clone or identical twin?"

"I beg your pardon?!" I cried.

"Just answer it!" Enjolras replied.

"No I do not." I said.

"Are you of above average intelligence? Foolish question…" He added under his breath.

"I heard that, and no I am not."

"Are you related to royalty or nobility?"

"No…"

"Are you rich or well-to-do, although you don't work?"

"No, I've only got thirty euros."

"Euros?" Combeferre asked curiously.

"….Francs, currency, whatever you use these days…Never mind. Next question."

"Are you the last surviving member of a family, clan, race, species etcetera, etcetera?"

"Nope…"

Several hours later we were still at it. "Are you the top of your class at school?"

"Far from it!" I joked, which soon fell flat as the **Death-Glare-O'Doom®** made another appearance. "Just out of curiosity, what are you going to achieve from this?"

"We will be able to decide, using your answers to these questions whether or not you are a Marie-Suzette." Combeferre explained.

"Right. Of course." I sighed

Suddenly the door was flung open and out of shock, I crashed to the floor, once more, like before. A musical laugh filled the room. "Bonjour!!"

There was a general unenthusiastic muttered reply of 'Bonjour…' which did not come from every occupant of them room. Combeferre appeared to have hidden beneath a table.

With my chair-pusher-backer-upper in hiding, I was forced to shuffle the chair round and crane my neck uncomfortably to see this newest arrival. Then I immediately wished that I hadn't. Standing in the doorway was an impossibly slender girl. Whilst she had a pretty face, her hair was ankle length (impractical) and a sort of pus-yellow in colour (unpleasant). She had large round swimming-pool-blue eyes that reminded me of those of a fly. As I took in her appearance, she heaved a great sigh (and her disproportional to the rest of her bosom) and spoke in a high and rather irritating voice. "Oh! It's times like this when I am reminded of my harsh and terrible upbringing in the orphanage, where the other children would gang up on me, and the matron would beat me so roughly! I had to rely on my feminine charm and my unconventional good looks to escape that terrible place. How lucky was I, for the owner of the café to give me a job from the goodness of their heart and out of pity for me…"

"_Mon dieu_, she has barely begun." The bald one from earlier muttered, spotting the look of complete and utter disbelief and disgust on my face.

"Oh the memories of life on the street! The abuse! The name-calling! Those terrible accusations! 'Marie Suzette' they used to shout, but I am, like, SO not one of those because that's not even my name biotch, so omg shut up!" She said this last bit in a completely different tone, thus confusing me even further. She sighed. Again. "Oh the repressed pain! Catch me!" And fell, ina dead faint, impossibly slowly to the floor. It took her about ten minutes, probably in the hope that someone would leap up and catch her heroically. All that happened was that someone coughed and Marius scratched his nose. Finally she hit the deck; her hair fanning out around her in a way that she hoped looked angelic. In reality, it just looked like she'd been caught in a wind machine.

As the dust settled, Combeferre crept out from beneath the table. "Is she uncon-"

Sadly she was not, and upon spotting the poor student, she jumped gracefully(ish) to her feet and flung her twig-like arms around his neck. "Fabien!!" She squealed.

"_FABIEN?!"_ Enjolras and two other Les Amis cried together, disbelief mixed with amusement.

"How did you find out – I mean, Arielle…why are you calling me that?" He stammered.

Arielle – so THIS was Arielle! – pouted. "Fabien, don't you remember? Last night, when we walked through the streets together, you told me how beautiful I was in the moonlight-"

My unhelpful Frenchman wolf-whistled.

"Shut up Courfeyrac!!!" Combeferre snapped, turning spectacularly red. He turned back to the waif-like girl hanging round his neck. "Arielle, I don't remember that…"

She looked hurt. "You DON'T?! How can you NOT?! You said you LOVED ME!!"

"Arielle, I-"

Alas, the damage had already been done. With a hysterical sob of 'men are pigs!!' Arielle turned and fled from the room.

"Oooooooh…" Said Courfeyrac, trying to suppress a grin.

"Shut up Courfeyrac!" Came a muffled sob from behind the door.

"You've done it now Combeferre!" The inebriated Le Amis spoke up from his place in the corner. "We'll never hear the end of this now! Do you remember when our fearless leader rejected her amorous advances?" Enjolras shot him a filthy look, but he continued anyway. "The sobbing, the wailing, the stamping around in strange boots, throwing things at the wall…"

"The token period of nursing a broken heart…" Another added.

"I would not joke if I were you, you could be next, Prouvaire!" The original speaker replied.

'Prouvaire' went rather pale. "Shut up Grantaire!" He whimpered, almost breaking the pen in his hand from nerves.

Enjolras looked as if he was about to do the 1800's equivalent of 'HeadDesk'. "We can't have her wailing interrupting the meetings! We haven't even dealt with our newest Suzette yet!" 'Oi!' I interrupted, but he continued regardless. "What we need, is someone to help her to get over Combeferre as quickly as possible…"

"Not me!" Was the popular opinion.

"No, I know about girls." Courfeyrac said slowly. "They need someone to just pour their hearts out to…someone who understands…someone…female." I did NOT like the way he was looking at me throughout this sentence.

"Oh no." I said, as it dawned on me. "NO. No way. I am not going after her. NO. Not a hope in Hell! Never!"

A blackmailing, a scuffle, several muttered oaths and a bloody nose later, I stood outside Arielle Papillion's (who had eyes of fiery cornflower and flowing locks of striking sunrise gold) room and knocked reluctantly on the door.


	3. In Which Prouvaire Has a Narrow Escape

**Here's some more! This will be the last chapter for a while, as I concentrate on some other projects. Sorry!**

* * *

I heard footsteps and slowly the door opened. Arielle peered out, her face streaked (prettily, of course) with tears and her large blue eyes watery. "Hello?" She whimpered. "Who are you?"

I introduced myself, regarding myself as an acquaintance of Les Amis. I neglected to mention that I had been abducted, knocked out, verbally abused, tied up and blackmailed by the very same Amis, but this is France, what are details? "Can I come in?"

"Why?" She sniffed, clutching an embroidered handkerchief.

It was a good thing Courfeyrac had given me a few ideas. I was a terrible liar and an even worse improviser. "I have come to apologise on behalf of Combeferre and his terrible behaviour." I repeated.

"Well you may tell that he can take his apology and….and…" She burst into tears again. Mon dieu, this was going to be difficult. I sighed and stepped into her room which was full of fancy dresses and make-up which were both a.) Inappropriate for the time period and b.) Far too expensive for a mere waitress to have bought on the wage of the time.

"Nice, er…stuff." I attempted, then immediately cursed myself. STUFF?!

This was obviously the right thing to say because she immediately brightened. "Isn't it? I do like to keep myself looking pretty, unlike that awful Eponine girl; you know, the scruffy one, always hanging around Marius Pontmercy…"

I had no idea, but nodded anyway. "So um…" I tried another track. "You are…fond of Combeferre?"

She dissolved into tears again. Oh help, I thought. Thankfully she managed to compose herself and sat down in a chair near the window. "Yes." She sniffed. "He is most charming. Enjolras introduced us, did you know?" I shook my head. She continued. "After all my bad luck in love and abusive relationships, it was so wonderful to find someone who actually understood me." She wiped away another single tear. The lump on my head from where I had been knocked out two chapters ago began to ache again. Bousset had, sadly, been right. She seemed to have an entire repertoire to go though. I started to regret accidentally giving him a bloody nose.

* * *

"What's taking them so long?" Enjolras, fearless leader of Les Amis growled. He HAD been taking advantage of the absence of Suzettes to plan the revolution, but upon realizing that no one was listening and were infact listening out for signs of angry heart broken Suzettes, he had given this up as a bad job. But only temporarily of course. 

After a short and rather awkward silence, Marius spoke up. "I suppose it could be worse."

"Worse?" Combeferre squeaked. "Marius, how COULD it be worse? Oh I see, I see. Marius Pontmercy, NEVER plagued by the Suzettes-"

"Plagued by that Eponine though." Bahorel attempted a joke which soon fell flat again as everyone ignored him.

Jehan looked thoughtful. "Arielle."

"Yes, she is the subject of the day." Courfeyrac replied.

"No, no, I was just thinking. She must be the…twenty…eighth Suzette?"

"Twenty eight?" Feuilly said in disgust. "It feels like hundreds. Who was the first?"

"I believe it was Rosette Prouvaire." Bahorel said with a grin

"Ah yes, I remember her! Jean Prouvaire's adoptive sister-" Courfeyrac began to reminisce.

"Who I had never heard of nor been introduced to." The said revolutionary interrupted.

"With eyes of starry chocolate-"

"Which is both strange and impossible, even for a poet."

"And hair of burnished scarlet-"

"I won't even ask."

"And endowed with scathing wit." Courfeyrac finished.

Bousset snorted. "Scathing? Her idea of scathing was 'STFU'!!"

There was another pause as the Amis listened out for signs of progress on the Suzette front.

"What does that even mean anyway? STFU?" Marius broke the silence.

"I think it's some kind of insult. Foreign perhaps. She did speak twelve languages fluently." Joly suggested, as he hadn't had a line yet and felt he needed one.

Yet another silence occurred as this last statement was mulled over.

"Maybe she's run off." Said Feuilly.

"Who, Arielle or the new Suzette?" Grantaire asked, tilting the bottle in his hand in the hope of a stray drop of wine in the bottom.

"The new one." Feuilly sighed. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to tie her up."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Well then, next time we won't, and then see how you like it when you've got some air-head wench hanging off your arm."

Feuilly gulped and hurriedly pretended he hadn't said anything.

* * *

"I completely agree." I…agreed. "Men are complete pigs and a total waste of space. But shouldn't you give Combeferre another chance? He's a nice guy and you two could get on like the proverbial house on fire." 

Arielle shook her head stubbornly. "No. Combeferre and I are OVER!" The unexpected volume of this last word almost made me fall off my chair in alarm. As I clung on for dear life, I began to see a recurring theme… "That Jean Prouvaire though…" Arielle mused. "He's very kind, and rather good-looking."

_Mon dieu,_ I thought, if she transfers her affections to him, I'll be in trouble… "Um, er, is that so?" I stammered. It has been said before, I am a terrible liar. "Well that's not what I've heard."

She turned her large round eyes to me. "Really?"

"Oh yes." I said. "Moody fellow. Artists' temperament and all that. Has his head in the clouds a lot and doesn't care much for relationships." I had no idea if this was true or not, but Arielle seemed to be buying it.

"I see. That's odd, his adoptive sister seemed very sure on his personality in her last letter to me. Although," She sighed deeply again. "That was a year ago. She disappeared mysteriously after that." She brightened suddenly. "Perhaps that is why Jehan is uninterested in relationships! He is still upset over his sisters' disappearance and needs someone to help him get over it!"

"No!" I cried, and then as she looked at me oddly, calmed down considerably. "Erm…no. No. Um. No. He was like that…before her disappearance. Yep. That's right. Before."

"Oh…" Arielle sighed. "So do you think I should give Combeferre another chance?"

"Yeah, why not." I said carelessly, and then added. "I think he does care about you, you know. And I think he does remember your walk with him last night, when you confessed about your parentage…"

Arielle gasped. "He TOLD you that?"

"Um…yes?" I squeaked, and then hastily added. "Men always act stupidly when they're with friends. Maybe he just wanted to keep what he said to you a secret." And bloody repress it from his memory banks, I felt like adding.

Arielle smiled sickeningly. "Ah, dear, dear Fabien. So romantic…"

"Yeeah." I muttered.

Arielle got to her feet. "I must go and tell him he has another chance." She announced, heading for the door.

I almost rugby-tackled her in my hurry to stop her. "No!" I cried again. "Um, you know, maybe you should um…make him wait a bit. Make him worry, play hard to get."

"Hard to get?" Arielle repeated, blinking at me.

"Yep!" I said, scrambling to my feet. "So, you know, go shopping, visit a friend, have a day away from the café! You deserve it, after the upset this morning. And in a few days time," When I'm back in 2008, I added in my head "you can go to him and tell him you're _considering_ taking him back. Good idea?"

To my absolute horror, she hugged me. "You are so NICE!" She squealed. "We're going to be such good friends, I just know it!" She released me, and I stood, a bit shell-shocked, as she asked me if I wanted to come shopping with me. I declined her 'kind' offer with some terrible excuse and she skipped off happily. Yes, dear reader, you heard me. She _skipped._

I stumbled back to the Amis meeting room, where the conversation came to an abrupt halt as I entered the room.

"Well?" Enjolras said, raising an eyebrow.

"How did it go?" Bahorel asked.

"You look rather pale, what happened? Do you feel nauseous?" Joly commented.

Combeferre however, would not shut up with the questions. As I walked across the room, he came and walked beside me anxiously, like a bespectacled puppy. "What did she say? What did you tell her? Is she gone? Is she still attracted to me?"

I ignored him and stood in front of the table where Jean Prouvaire – totally oblivious of his lucky escape - sat. "You owe me." I told him. "You so, so owe me."


	4. In Which God Makes a Cameo Appearance

**Reading back over this I have realised one thing: It is completely mad. After this I will write something serious. I'm not good at serious, I need to practice. But for now, here's the madness.

* * *

**

Le Amis were in my debt. I'd ridden them temporarily of the Suzette Arielle and was showing no signs of being a Suzette myself. All was well. Ish. They'd tied me up again. So all was, infact, not well at all. Le Amis though, had other ideas. Cheered by the prospect of a few days without Arielle, they had ordered more wine and were holding an impromptu celebration, whilst planning ways to get rid of her permanently.

"How did we get rid of Justine Chantal LeBlanc?"

"We knocked her out and threw her in the Seine, but we can't do that any more, the police are already suspicious."

"What about Georgette Artois?"

"Left her in that inn in Normandy five months ago, with the pretence of going to buy some more wine. For all I know she's still sat there awaiting my return." A burst of laughter followed this statement as Le Amis reminisced about Suzettes past and present.

"We can't go back there, she'll be all over Enjolras like a rash and then we'll have her back in our hair." Bousset said. The others simply looked at him and his bald dome before collapsing back into laughter. Methinks a _bit_ too much wine had been consumed.

Enjolras looked glum though. He would rather have been plotting revolutions instead of the downfall of Marie-Suzettes. Grantaire appeared to notice this and grabbed the opportunity to mock him some more. "Why, Apollo, oh great and fearless leader, I thought you would have jumped at the chance to aid us in our quest to rid Paris of this plague!"

"Perhaps Apollo is not as chaste and uninterested as previously thought!" Courfeyrac commented. Enjolras merely rolled his eyes in disgust. "Oh come on!" Courfeyrac insisted. "Don't deny that you enjoy the attention!"

"I have no time nor interest for silly wenches." Enjolras snapped. "You'd think that they'd begin to get the idea but no, they still take to me for some reason and insist on annoying me day in and day out." He took his head out of his hand and slapped it down on the table (I will take this opportunity to say that it was the hand, not his head that made contact with the table. That would've just been strange and rather painful on Enjolras' part). "There are people of the streets _dying_, the government _doesn't care,_ and you're all sat around, ignoring me, yes, me, who you asked in the first place to help organize you mob, drinking wine, discussing this recent and unexpected stream of shameless women who think they belong with us and, and…" He'd sped up rather a lot during this short outburst and seemed at a loss for something to complete the sentence with.

"Blogging?" I suggested.

"You can shut up too, _Suzette_." He replied angrily, turning to me. And I honestly thought he was going to hit me. Which was a bit scary and also rather funny at the same time, for unknown reasons. He didn't though, just stormed out, slamming the door behind him, which in turn caused a shelf to fall off the wall. An awkward silence descended.

"Well." I said, to break the silence. I would've left it to Grantaire, but he was currently out cold where the shelf had landed on his head. "Looks like we're all in the _merde._"

Before one of them could make some smart remark, there was an unexpected burst of purple light. The light was, as previously mentioned, purple, and incredibly bright. So bright infact, that a couple of Amis (possibly including Feuilly, I wasn't sure, I hadn't learnt all their names quite yet) fell over in surprise. I squeezed my eyes shut and after about a minute, and after hearing a loud thump, I reopened my eyes. "Oh no…" I whispered. "OH NO…"

* * *

Whilst this bizarre phenomenon occurred, Enjolras/Apollo/Fearless Leader/the Phantom of the Opera (My contribution from chapter one) was striding briskly though the streets of Paris. Cross. Very cross. Cross as a bee. Cross as a very irate bee infact-

God from 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail': GET ON WITH IT!

Terribly sorry. Anyway, as I was saying, walking though gay _Paree_, blah, blah, blah, when SUDDENLY an event occurred! Rather unusual in a fanfic I must admit, but I digress. This Unexpected Event was that Arielle Papillion, with eyes of fiery cornflower and flowing locks of striking sunrise gold, stepped out of a shop in front of him. He stopped dead, hoping she hadn't seen him. No such luck.

"Enjy!" She trilled, using that infuriating nickname once again, and tippy-toeing over prettily. _Mon Dieu_, dear Enjy thought, praying to some higher power that an out of control coach would suddenly come stampeding down the street and trample Arielle to death in a wonderfully gory way. Again, poor Enjy, no such luck.

So what did our brave revolutionary do? Well dear reader, I'll tell you.

He took to his heels and fled.

Brave, brave Sir Enjy, brave Sir Enjy ran away, bravely ran away away…

"_I never!" _Enjolras thought crossly, as Arielle followed him at a swift jog, all the time calling 'Enjy…oh Enjy!"

* * *

Meanwhile, whilst poor Enjolras was fleeing for his life, I was still rather gobsmacked at the result of the Strange Purple Light. In front of me stood a teenage girl, with a wide, almost toad-like, face. Her make-up was rather crudely applied in a way that did not suit her colouring at all, but she obviously thought looked marvellous. Her thin dark hair was loose over her shoulders and she was absentmindedly twisting a strand around her finger. What really filled me with dread though, were her clothes. Like me, she wore jeans, but with a garish flowery top and tight leather jacket. This was the unmistakable style of none other than-

"June?" I managed to squeak finally.

Yes, her. You see, fair readers, June was a rather irritating girl who I had the misfortune to be acquainted with, because we had both attended the very same nursery school. June was an odd one, I'll say. Boasted a fair deal about the books she'd read and the theatre she'd seen and the 'fantastic' novel that she was apparently working on. This alone got rather wearing after a while, but it was the way that with everyone she met, teachers, students, alike, she spoke to with the same amount of disdain if you hadn't got past page thirty-seven of the latest fantasy novel. She had her friends, but for some bizarre reason, she seemed to want me in her little clique…sheesh, and all because I read 'Pride and Prejudice' before I watched the Colin Firth film…

Her eyes lit up when she saw me. "Omigosh!" She squealed obnoxiously. Jehan, who was nearest, winced. "What are _you_ doing _here_? You'll _never_ guess what happened to me today when I was at home, after Luke, my cousins' best friends mothers sisters paper delivery boy made fun of my books! I was _re-reading_ Les Miserables, _you know_, by Victor Hugo? I thought you _might_ have heard of it, anyway when SUDDENLY, my whole room tips forward and suddenly I'm HERE!" She flung her arms out, almost knocking an approaching Bousset. Poor guy.

I managed to catch Marius' eye and mouth the all important words, whilst jerking my head in June's direction; _"Marie Suzette!!"_

"Marie Suzette!" He cried fearfully, and Courfeyrac did the all important job of whacking June across the back of the head with the bit of broken shelf. Grantaire came around briefly, cheered, and then proceeded to pass out once more. The girl in question fell to the floor unconscious and I felt rather sorry for her, as I had not hit the floor with such force during my capture. Sorry, correction. I felt sorry for her – _briefly._

June was trussed up like the proverbial turkey and tied to a chair beside me. "Oh no." I said, please don't sit her there. Anywhere but there, I'm begging you – oh hi June!" I squeaked, as she came round.

"Oh my head…" She grunted. "What did you call me?"

"Er…June?" I suggested. "That is your name…"

June cast a wary eye around the room, taking in the remaining present and not to mention conscious Amis. She giggled nervously, with a sound that sounded rather like a clogged drain. "It's not June…" She hissed. "It's Jeannette, remember? Jeannette Racamier?"

I suddenly realised that I was the victim of a group stare out by Les Amis. "What?" I said, innocently.

"A friend joining you from your century?" Bahorel commented. "That's quite, you know…MARIE SUZETTE-ISH!!!"

"What?" I cried.

"Suzette!" Someone shouted.

"What." June, sorry, Jeannette snorted, sounding rather annoyed that I'd got here first.

"Two Suzettes!" Someone else declared.

"No!" I sighed, as June/Jeannette muttered. "Oh come on, that's not even my name…"

"Did I miss something?" Said a familiar blond revolutionary, re-entering the scene. Everyone fell silent. June/Jeannette looked at Enjolras. Enjolras looked at June/Jeannette. June/Jeannette's mouth fell open and a dreamy look came into her eyes.

Uh oh.

**

* * *

Bum bum buuum. So, there is yet another Suzette on the scene! Will three be a crowd? Will girls stop falling for Enjy? Will Grantaire regain consciousness? Will Joly **_**ever**_** have another line?! Why am I asking YOU all these questions? Find out next time, in 'None of your Friends Think So', the madness in text form brainchild of Fwoggeh!!!**


	5. In Which There is a Reference

**Virtual baked goods to whoever spots the Shakespeare reference.**

* * *

"_Isn't_ he GORGEOUS?!" June/Jeannette hissed, as Les Amis held an emergency meeting about the new Suzette.

"June slash Jeannette!" I snapped. "No! Anyway, he's a complete arse so-"

"He's _just_ how I imagined him…" June said dreamily, which is rather difficult to do when you're tied to a chair and keep getting thrown dark looks by random French students.

"Say what." I growled, looking at her.

"You_ know_…" She sighed. "Les Mis! The Brick? That massive book I'm _always_ lugging around? A literary _masterpiece_ written by the genius that is Victor Hugo?"

"Never heard of it." I grunted, trying to edge my chair away from her without her noticing.

"_Well_," She said, and proceeded to explain most of the plot. I honestly did not care. "Then there's this _girl_, Cosette-"

Marius must've heard this, as he looked up suddenly and said "How do you know about Cosette?!"

June grinned rather scarily. "You _must_ be Marius!"

"Uh…"

"Don't answer her Marius!" Bahorel called.

"Right, so, _that's_ Marius…" June mused, as I shook my head slowly and made a mental note to kill Bahorel later. "That _must_ be Enjolras, L'Aigle, Courfeyrac…"

"June." I muttered. "Shut up, if you want to live." Sadly, I was rather late.

"Suzette!" Combeferre exclaimed, pointing at June in a quite over the top fashion.

"Think we've got that by now Combeferre." Feuilly remarked. He seemed to be taking all this in his stride I thought.

"All these foreign Suzettes." Joly sniffed, as the all-powerful authoress decided to grant Maddiecakes wishes and give him another line or two. "They're probably bringing all sorts of futuristic diseases with them…"

Soon after, the meeting was adjourned and gradually the students began to leave. As Feuilly made his way towards the door I called, in my usual eloquent style "Oi! Feuilly!"

"Yes?" He replied, taking his hand away from the door.

"I was just sort of thinking…" I said slowly. "You're taking all these 'Suzette's rather well. I was just wondering…why? How, even?"

Feuilly shrugged. "I'm not sure really. I just try to see them as they are, instead of a threat. Vacant, silly, empty headed-"

"Hey!" June snapped. Feuilly ignored her

"Then they don't seem so frightening. Perhaps it's because I've never had a Suzette after me…"

This was a surprise. "What?" I exclaimed, surprised. "You mean out of twenty-eight Suzettes, you've never had one?"

He laughed at my expression. "It's not something I lament over!" He said. "No, I think everyone else has had one except Marius and I. Bahorel thought he was safe until last month…" He smiled at the, I assumed amusing, memory. To be honest, the mental image of a highly annoyed Bahorel with a squealing Suzette clinging onto him like a limpet was hilarious.

Courfeyrac, Grantaire and Enjolras were last to leave, and as Courfeyrac rolled a singing Grantaire out the door Enjolras turned to us.

"We're going to lock the door, to stop you causing any more damage," I opened my mouth to protest that the only damage I had done was making Arielle cry a bit, but he continued. "We'll untie you and leave you here tonight. In the morning we'll have decided what to do with you."

"Oo-er." I muttered.

"I shall no more, to sea, to seeeeeea!" Grantaire sung without any definite tune or note. "Heeeere shall I die ashoooore…hic"

"Hush now, Winecask." Courfeyrac said calmly, rolling him into the street.

So Enjolras untied us both and then before June could assault him, fled out the door. A loud click informed us that said door was locked.

I wriggled my wrists until the loosened rope fell off and began to do a sort of victory dance. I'm not a spectacular dancer so June just watched me with disgust, nose wrinkled. It wasn't much of a dance at all to be honest; I just jumped around like a hyperactive leprechaun, waving my arms about happily. Freedom!

"Right." I said. "Now how do we get back?"

"Back?" June repeated slowly.

"Yes back indeed!" I replied. "Back to 2008, back to my holiday, back to the future! Come on, don't you want to get away from these oddballs?"

June stared at me like I'd grown an extra head. "No!" She shrieked. "That's – that's Les _Amis_ d'ABC! Oh _don't you_ know? We're _so_ incredibly lucky! _I'm_ not going back to the _cultural_ wasteland…"

"Right." I said "That cultural wasteland where people don't randomly build barricades in the middle of the road and little kids die in the street."

"That sometimes _happens_."

"Yes." I said. "But not in the suburbs."

June stuck her bottom lip out and sat back down. "What_ever_." She scoffed. "You can _run_ off if you want, but I'm s_taying_ right here."

"Ohhh no." I said. "I am not leaving you here to violate Enjolras when he's not looking." I went over to a small window and pushed it. No luck. I pushed it harder. Nope. And again. Dammit. In the end, I took off a shoe and hit the lock with it repeatedly.

June gave an elaborate sigh and pushed me aside. Taking a bent wire pin out of her hair, she poked the lock with it feebly.

"June…" I said carefully, as she was not a small girl. "I don't think that's going to wor-"

CLICK.

Famous last words. I slipped my shoe back on and clambered out the window, muttering "Marie-Suzette…" Under my breath.

"I _heard _that."

I jumped down from the window and promptly fell over. June, of course, landed neatly on her feet and made sure she trod on my stomach as she walked off. As I said before, she was not a small girl. I got up painfully and scuttled after her as she walked purposefully down the street. "June." I puffed. I really needed to start getting more exercise. "Do you even know where you're going?"

"Not _really_." She remarked cheerfully. "But _I'm sure_ is we head in a sort of…that ways direction, We'll come across a l_andmar_k at some point. Like the Eiffel Tower _perhaps_."

"I hope so." I remarked, trying to ignore how very dark it was. I continued walking and crashed into the back of June, who was carrying a horribly familiar apple laptop from Chapter One and trying to access Google Earth.

"June…" I said quietly, as I was slightly afraid of the answer. "Where did you get that?"

"It was just_ lying_ on the table, so I picked it up,_ thinking_ it might come in handy…

"June!" I squeaked. "That belongs to Arielle Papillion, who has eyes of fiery cornflower and flowing locks of striking sunrise gold! You can't take that, she'll…she'll…I don't know what she'll do, but she has no shame so it'll be pretty bad!"

"She sounds like a _right Biatch_." June commented, absently clicking zoom in. I snatched the laptop away from her and whilst trying to turn it off, stumbled across a text file. Curious, I read on.

"_Onec ther waz dis gurl and she waz sooooo pretty an had __had eis of firey cornflowa (witch iz bloo, stupidz, hahalol) and flowin lox of strikin sunrise gold an her name waz Arielle. She live wiv her abusiv dad who beat her an raped her and her teachers gav her sooooo much hmwk omg. An all the gurls at her hi skool hated her cos she waz sooo beutiful an smart an they sed 'STFU betch, we hate you, lol.'but ehy waz sooo jelous. So Arielle waz all lyke 'oh noez' so she went home in the rane an writ sum relli gud pomes an her dad waz all 'Im gonna beet u up, lol.'_

It went on like this for several pages.

"'_wher am i? sed arielel. 'u r in paris, lol' sed enjilas an he waz hawt an a hero an wor red vests lmao. ' ur so pretti, I will fite the revolooshon 4 u.'" _

It suddenly dawned on me. This was Arielle's (terrible) fanfiction. She wasn't from this time period at all, but from a time where musicals were widespread and computers was available and spell check was disregarded! I snapped the laptop shut before my eyes started bleeding from reading the monstrosity, and ticked it under my arm. June was already off again, so I followed her, suddenly realising something important.

"Er…" I said "I don't think that the Eiffel Tower was built yet…"

However, it was too late. A group of thieves leapt out from the shadows and grabbed June, holding a nasty looking knife to her neck. "Hand over all your valuables, or we kill your little friend!" One of them snarled. I considered telling them to go right ahead, but Junes mother would never forgive me if her 'precious little Junie pops' got severely knifed up by some gang. Plus, June looked as if she was about to wet herself with fear.

"I haven't got much." I told them, rummaging through my pockets. "I'm afraid Courfeyrac took most of my euros…"

One of the gang snatched the paper money from my hand. "Whas this?" He grumbled angrily, brandishing his own weapon in my general direction. "It ain't Francs. Tryin' to fob us off with some scrap of paper!"

I was about to tell him that I'd had to wait half an hour at the _Bureau de Change_ for that 'scrap of paper' when suddenly a ninja-like figure leapt into our midst from the rooftop above us. It flew through the air, taking out thieves with impressive martial arts kicks and punches, almost in slow motion, with a terrifying war cry. In a few minutes, several of the gang lay about the place unconscious and the others ran off.

"Ha!" The ninja cried and pulled of its hood to dramatically shake out its long blonde hair.

"Oh." I said, severely let down. "Hello Arielle."

* * *

"You might've said something, silly!" Arielle twittered patronisingly as we walked back to le Café. "I'd have let you and your little friend stay at mine for as long as you liked!" She sighed. "It gets so lonely here and I have few friends…It'll be so fun!"

"Oh joy." I muttered sarcastically. June was thrilled though.

"_She_ never told me there was _another_ girl in _the _café!" She chirped, shooting a dark look at yours truly as she said 'She'. "Do _you know_ Les Amis too? This is _too_ cool!"

"Mon Dieu…" I groaned, as they twittered away.

"Stop!" We were suddenly commanded. "Police!"

"Ohmigosh!" The two sues squealed. "It's Javert!"

In the light of the lone streetlight, I saw the policeman's face fall as he recognized Arielle. Oh dear…


End file.
